


"I don’t think I’ve ever been this hard in my entire life and it’s all your fault."

by Leafontehwind



Series: Are we all just stumbling along until we get this right? [12]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: F/M, Gen, Hand Jobs, Kissing, Lots of kissing, M/M, Sheriff Stilinski gets a little surprise
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-25
Updated: 2012-11-25
Packaged: 2017-11-19 13:27:47
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,039
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/573774
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Leafontehwind/pseuds/Leafontehwind
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>'Stiles felt blood humming through his veins and felt it impossible to ignore his straining hard on. How in holy hell could someone with supernatural senses who could <i>smell</i> arousal deal with this sort of thing? He would probably in all actuality die. Yep, he’d probably die a horrible, sexually frustrated death. ‘Sorry, guys, totally not cut out for the whole werewolf lifestyle, too much sensory overload.’ '</p><p>Or that one where... well, em. *blushes* Okay. I think the quote above did enough to kind of guide you to where this installment veers.</p>
            </blockquote>





	"I don’t think I’ve ever been this hard in my entire life and it’s all your fault."

**Author's Note:**

> This was mostly written after I worked an overnight shift and hadn't slept in over twenty hours. Forgive any glaring mistakes I made and I hope you enjoy this bit. Apparently the slow build isn't really referring to Derek and Stiles but to the plot... Who really needs plot? ;)

Stiles reached forward and took the plate off of Derek’s lap before standing up. If he was being honest with himself, his hands weren’t entirely steady which is why he used both hands to balance the plate while he brought it over to his desk, heart hammering within his chest furiously. He didn’t really have much of a chance to go over what was going on, though, he had been freaking out about it all day and that was before the kissing. Before the hard truth that yes Derek wanted him and he was very much okay with it. Before the sheer reality that something more than kissing could happen and while Stiles very much wanted it to happen, he wasn’t sure he was really ready for it. 

When he turned around, Derek was only about a step away from him and _god_ did he remember a time when he didn’t really appreciate the invasion of personal space. When his heart sped up for another reason altogether. Stiles’ eyebrows jumped upwards, eyes flicking down to Derek’s lips before meeting the alpha’s. He could already feel his cheeks turning five shades of red and he wasn’t sure if it was because of their nearness or just of the implication of what might actually and totally come next. He was going to go with a mixture of both, a mixture of the two was probably right.

“So, uh...” Stiles wasn’t exactly sure of what he was supposed to say or do aside from the fact that it should definitely and totally be more then just standing here and staring at the ridiculously attractive werewolf. Luckily enough for him, Derek took the cue and moved in. He placed his hand on the side of Stiles’ neck, eyes searching his for a brief moment before he leaned in. The kiss was soft and reassuring before it deepened. 

Stiles hands roamed where ever they could, running all over Derek’s arms before his own hooked around the back of the older man’s neck, desperately trying to pull them closer. To try and get more leverage on the kiss, to somehow become closer then they already were, if it was even freaking possible. Derek pulled back, resting his forehead against Stiles’.

Derek’s hands worked on the zipper of his hoodie, and slid underneath the fabric to slowly shirk it off the teens shoulders and to the floor as if it had been offending him. And, really. What had the hoodie ever done to him? Unless... oh. Too much clothes. Ohmygod. How was he going to ever get used to this?

“Bed,” It wasn’t a question though it wasn’t a demand either, maybe it was more like a suggestion. Like, hey, there was a bed and it would allow them to get all horizontal and everything and that was probably a good idea. Especially because it seemed like his werewolf ass couldn’t resist all of what Stiles had going on. Clearly, that was what that one word and three letters actually meant. 

Stiles nodded a few times, letting out a hoarse laugh. “Yes, the bed would be good.” He stepped away from Derek almost reluctantly, hands dropping away from his neck as his left hand slid down to intertwine their fingers as he walked around to the side of the bed. He felt a giddy sort of calm (even though he was so nowhere near calm, give him a map to calm and he could show you just how freaking far away he was from calm) as he turned around and slid down onto the bed, pulling Derek with him. He had thought about his first time with any of this, all of it really, but like he thought earlier today, _this_ was just so much better than he actually imagined it could be. The way that Derek was staring at him in this intense way, which sure, wasn’t unlike how he looked at people all the time, but there was something different about this. It was softer and there was want, lust and desire written all over his features. And, fucking hell, it was all for him. He really didn’t understand how this was even possible but he wasn’t about to look a gift horse in the mouth. Nope.

Derek followed him onto the bed, bringing his hands up to brace his weight so he wasn’t crushing the hell out of the poor fragile and oh so human Stiles. It was strange, how their bodies lined up together and just felt so... right. It was just like when their lips were slotted against each other, it was something that was so simple and complicated but it felt like it was something they could do. Like something they should have been doing all along. 

The werewolf leaned his head forward, pressing a trail of kisses against the underside of Stiles’ jaw. He kept going until he got to the collar of the younger man’s shirt, pausing then to angle his head to the side so he could apparently refresh the mark he left on Stiles’ neck this morning. Stiles would be lying if he didn’t absolutely freaking love that now, now that he knew what it meant. That it wasn’t an accident that came from him taking care of Derek when he was in a vulnerable state. Knowing that this was consensual and not at all just a weird ‘you’re sort of part of my pack alpha thing’ was definitely helping this situation.

Stiles closed his eyes, his hand going down and slipping underneath Derek’s borrowed shirt. It wasn’t that he hadn’t seen or known how built the werewolf was, but it was different to appreciate something objectively and a whole other story to appreciate it with touching because you were allowed to do that. Stiles seriously wanted to run his tongue along the planes of Derek’s abs because how was he even real? For now he settled for wandering hands, exploring as much as he could as the werewolf that was humanly possible.

A hand rested on the hot dip of Derek’s back, just above the band of his jeans, one finger dangerously close to sliding into the great beyond. Wait, what? The great beyond? Clearly this much kissing was totally having an adverse effect on his intelligence and fuck all if Stiles gave a damn. Maybe this was his Flowers for Algernon, apart from being without a whole lot of smarts at the beginning, Derek was just the beginning of the end of Stiles’ wiles and wits. Stiles might be okay with never having to think again if he could just immerse his entire being inside the tenacity of the alpha’s lips. Dear god, Derek was a good kisser. Not that Stiles had much for comparison, but it fucking showed that he knew what the hell he was doing. Hell, he was so good that Stiles didn’t even feel like he was floundering or just way too inexperienced for this. He just... damnit. They just fit so well together it was impossible for self-doubt to snake it’s way in. 

Derek pulled away, his knees the only things that supported him over Stiles’ form as he leaned backwards. His hands slid down the teenager’s sides before hooking underneath the hem of his shirt. For some reason, it felt like the werewolf was deliberately taking his time with pulling Stiles’ shirt off, like the lean form underneath him was some freaking prize that he had won and taking his time in unwrapping said prize gave him great pleasure. And, maybe _just maybe_ Stiles should cease any comparison to him being a prize or a present to Derek because that process probably turned him on way more than it should and would probably mean something to Freud that he really wasn’t ready to know about himself. 

As his shirt was lifted over his head, Derek used it to pin Stiles’ hands up and render them completely freaking useless. The alpha dipped his head, mouthing the jut of his collarbone and then moving onto his right nipple. A talented tongue swirled around it, mouth sucked a delicious sort of pressure before teeth brought just the right amount of pain that forced a moan out of Stiles’ lips unbidden. He really didn’t think that he was all that sensitive in that area, but, hey, he was known to be wrong from time to time. Even he could admit it totally happened sometimes.  
Though, not often.

Wanting to level the playing field, Stiles wriggled out of his shirt, seeing as how Derek wasn’t being all that forceful with the cotton shirt of restraint, the teen urged Derek’s shirt off, tossing it where ever. Red eyes flashed at him and he wished to freaking Allah or whatever that the jump in his heart rate had been due to fear and the look of momentary lack of control should totally not have made his dick twitch in his pants. Maybe it was just a Derek thing, even when he was crazy scary he was fucking hot. Never one to really back down, usually he’d just wind up getting his ass handed to him before knowing what was best for him and walking away, Stiles decided to make a move. Daring to lick a stripe of skin across Derek’s jaw, he reveled in the feel of the rough stubble against his tongue. Seriously, it was nearly like sandpaper but combined with the heat and salt of the older man’s skin...It was, So. Fucking. Hot. He honestly, not one day in his seventeen years did he ever think that stubble could be this damn dizzyingly hot, but here he was. He was Stiles Stilinski not even giving an iota of a damn about the stubble burn that would inevitably show up later across his skin. Seriously. Screw any feigned explanation he’d have to come up with. It was all fucking worth it.

Without much warning, their mouths meet again. Each kiss is more intoxicating than the last, Stiles has his hands carding through Derek’s hair, pulling slightly when he tries to get more leverage on the kiss, when he wants to get closer, so impossibly close to Derek that he would be perfectly alright with the man completely devouring him and leaving a wrecked version of himself. They continued for what felt like hours before Derek slanted himself between the younger man’s thighs, eliciting a moan from Stiles when the werewolf’s obviously hard member presses against his own almost urgently. 

He wants this. Of course Stiles obviously really, _really_ wants this. But, and there’s always that nagging but in the back of your brain that makes you want to shoot yourself for pulling back the reigns,for playing it smart when you just want to throw all caution into the wind and just say ‘screw it all’(ha, pun intended). Stiles wanted to be that person, but not at the expense of not putting himself first. He just hoped that Derek didn’t hate him for what he was going to do. 

Stiles hissed out a moan and begins tapping perhaps too insistently on the alpha’s shoulder. “Wait, wait. Shit.” Seriously, no. He didn’t want to say what was going to come out of his mouth, he just wanted to be one of those guys that just went with it, that just totally was okay with doing _it_ before they even went on whatever would constitute as a date for them. Which, really? What were they supposed to do? Go on normal like movie dates? Go to a restaurant? Stiles really couldn’t see Derek at a place that might require him to wear a button down shirt or, oh god, or a tie. Though, he was sure that he’d look very good in a tie; Okay, not the point like at all. 

Derek pulled back, eyebrows drawn together as he shifted his weight to the left, separating their bodies just enough that they weren’t completely touching from head to toe. Stiles immediately hated himself for what he was about to do, but, at the same time he couldn’t just do this because Derek wanted it. This was a big, huge, gigantic leap of a step and he had to make sure that he was definitely ready for it. 

“Dude, I’m sorry,” Stiles closed his eyes and thumped his head back against the pillows, cursing himself mentally for the monumentally retarded decision he was about to make. “I want this, I definitely do. I’m pretty sure that part is obvious. But,” He licked his lips in preparation before allowing his eyes to open and lock onto Derek’s. “I’m not sure if I’m ready for all of... this.” There was a vague gesture between the lower halves of their bodies and Stiles really, really freaking hoped that the werewolf understood. “I mean, sure. Teenage boy here and I obviously want to see some action soon. And I obviously want it to be you but um. I’m not sure if I’m ready. I just... fuck. I just need to take it a little slow, okay?”

Without saying anything, Derek just leaned in for a chaste kiss. “I understand.” He felt a stutter in his chest as some building pressure eased. He had been waiting for a blow, for Derek to brood or be pissed and maybe that’s what was so great. This, this had nothing to do with the side of the alpha that he tried to show to everyone. As Stiles had suspected and gleamed from time to time, the softer, more cuddly side of Derek Hale. Possibly who he was before the fire when he didn’t have so many walls up and so much guilt poisoning his possibly sparkling personality. 

“Are you sure cause...?" Stiles bit his lower lip,trying to figure out exactly the right way to string together words to actually get the point he was trying to make without screwing it up in a true ‘Stiles-like’ fashion. “I don’t really know how...I so obviously have never done this before and I’m probably going to mess it up somehow and it’s not like you--”

“Stiles.” Derek pressed a hand to the side of his face, thumb tracing over the human’s lush lips, silencing any words that were threatening to come out of his motor mouth because seriously, sometimes once they started there was nearly no way to stop them. “It’s fine. We don’t have to.”

He looked up at the werewolf, gauging the features on his face to see if there was any anger that he could; but there was nothing. And Derek’s face didn’t look so hard and guarded. Because it was already not fair, the werewolf looked even more handsome when he wasn’t brooding.God, he could get used to ‘Happy-Derek.’ Derek 2.0, complete with understanding, kissing and affection for Stiles Stilinski of all freaking people in Beacon Hills. 

Cursing himself yet again, Stiles instantly missing the intimacy of the heat and contact with Derek’s body as he rolled off of him. The pair of them lay there for a few minutes, presumably trying to cool off. Stiles felt blood humming through his veins and felt it impossible to ignore his straining hard on. How in holy hell could someone with supernatural senses who could _smell_ arousal deal with this sort of thing? He would probably in all actuality die. Yep, he’d probably die a horrible, sexually frustrated death. ‘Sorry, guys, totally not cut out for the whole werewolf lifestyle, too much sensory overload.’

“I don’t think I’ve ever been this hard in my entire life and it’s all your fault,” Of course, of _course_ he would say something like that without even thinking twice about it. Because his life wasn’t fair and he was always only about two seconds away from completely freaking embarrassing himself. Maybe Derek would get up, realizing the mistake he made and withdrawal his claim on Stiles. Hell, he couldn’t blame him. Sure, Stiles knew he was awesome in many, various ways, but self-confidence in the whole attractive and sexual department? Not quite there yet.

Derek made a low rumbling noise that seemed to start in his chest before gradually making its way to his throat, as if he was trying to swallow down his gut reaction to the information Stiles had provided. “I could take care of that for you.”

He didn’t... Derek didn’t... Stiles turned his head to the side only to find his not-so-Sourwolf staring at him intently, desire clear in his eyes. The teenager’s throat bobbed, unable to process the idea of what the older man was really proposing. He had implied he wasn’t ready for the whole sex thing, but was there some compromise that the werewolf was proposing? Or that he genuinely wanted to help Stiles... get... off...?

HolyFuckingChristOnACracker. That was what he was suggesting. Oh my god.

“Uh,” Stiles licked his lips, ignoring the small twitch in his hips at the thought of it. “I...” It wasn’t actually sex, it was definitely more than he ever thought would happen in reality. “Yeah. That’d be pretty nice of you to help out a guy in need. I mean, like purple heart sort of heroic. I might even have to compose a ballad for you, immortalize your kindness in song for people to know throughout the ages. I’d need a good name for it though, maybe some clever innuendos, but we can, you know, work on that later.”

Derek’s lips spread into a smile, not just the ghost of a smile but a hungry and really honest to goodness really fucking hot one. Their eyes were locked as Stiles felt a hand touch his chest and slide down to his jeans, sliding over the band and palming him from outside two layers of clothing. Stiles’ breath caught, eyes fluttering close at the pressure. It felt like he was being teased, that this action was just proving or checking on how hard the other man had made him, how much he was turned on by him. 

He didn’t prolong it though, Derek, it seemed, wasn’t trying to torture Stiles. That was good because he was pretty sure that even without any actual skin-on-skin contact, he could come with just the smallest incentive from the alpha. Deft fingers slid upwards, undoing the button of his jeans along with the zipper in one fluid motion-- which clearly had to be some insane werewolf sex thing. 

“Stiles,” Derek’s voice sounded like it was on the verge of something, breaking? If just doing this made him sound like this... how would he sound if they were actually having sex? Stiles shuddered to think. It would be so beautiful that it would probably tear him to pieces. 

The teenager moved a hand to touch the werewolf’s upper arm, amber eyes locking on impossibly intense gold flecked hazel ones. “Please, Derek. I want this.”

With the admission treated like the last obstacle, a calloused hand slipped into his jeans, beneath the band of his boxers and firmly wrapped around his cock. It was ten times different, having someone else’s hand being the one jerking you off. Stiles threw his head back against the pillow, his breathing becoming even more erratic with each stroke of Derek’s hand (and, really, was there anything apart from small talk that Derek Hale was not good at?). Just the sheer pressure of Derek’s fingers around his straining member was enough to send him over the edge and Stiles thought he deserved some sort of congratulatory medal for making it this far, all things considered. A thumb swiped over the head of his cock teasingly, an incoherent mess or words that gave way to a moan escaped his lips. He felt Derek lean closer and press a kiss to the underside of his jaw as his hand began pumping up and down in an almost practiced motion.

In minutes he came, spurting into Derek’s hand in probably what should have been an embarrassing amount of time. But, Stiles figured that had to do with two different things. One, he was a virgin. He was allowed to be quick because of his obvious lack of experience and his endurance had yet to be built up. Two, the fact that Derek was the one jerking him off, he figured many a people would have issues lasting long with that man’s talent and looks working on obtaining orgasmic bliss. 

Derek removed his hand, pausing for a minute to lick some of Stiles’ come off of his fingers (which, wow, that was really freaking hot in the dirtiest way) before leaning off of the bed to retrieve the plain white t-shirt and using it to clean the teenager up before it became dry and uncomfortable mess. If Stiles could actually manage a coherent thought as he was still coming down from one of the best freaking orgasms of his short life, he would have found the gesture affectionate and almost really sweet. Well, and he’d also probably tease Derek about the whole thing, about how good he was at taking care of Stiles. Possibly a double entendre or two. 

When he was done with his ministrations, the alpha tossed the shirt and curled into Stiles who was now laying on his side, still trying to regain a normal heartbeat. After a moment, Derek shifted to pull the comforter over the pair of them. Stiles felt the werewolf’s body press against his back, an arm snaking around him and pulling him close. He always figured he’d be an awesome cuddler but he never really pegged Derek for one. Clearly, he was really, completely one hundred percent wrong. Stiles pulled the alpha’s hand towards his chest, pressing back into the intense warmth behind him (seriously, werewolves were like space heaters; in the best possible way) and began drifting off to a blissful and boneless sleep.

 

~*~

It had been a long and weary night for the Sheriff. The recent crime scene had been just as grisly as the latest victim they saw was the same as the last four. Their faces twisted in an immortal scream and their throats slashed open in four lines that gauged down to the bone. It looked like an animal but he wasn’t so sure. With all of the strange things that had been happening in Beacon Hills, there wasn’t always an easy or simple explanation for what was going on. 

Sighing audibly, he noticed that while it was only around eleven at night on summer vacation, his son might have actually turned in early. Well, that or he was off getting into trouble. He wasn’t sure he could take the worry if his son was out there when another beast or possible serial killer was on the loose. If it were legal to put an ankle bracelet on his own son, he would have done it in a heartbeat. He just didn’t understand why Stiles seemed to gravitate towards these things. Maybe it was just his curious nature, wanting to know and see everything. He loved his son, but, he could strangle him sometimes. 

Making his way up the stairs, he figured he’d duck his head into his son’s room, make sure he was there just in case he had to ask someone on duty to keep an eye out for him-- not that most of the cops didn’t already know this, but they had to hire new cops since... Since a couple of months ago when several of them were brutally murdered. It was difficult to convince anyone to take on the job, as it was, they were still only running on half staff. It was the reason why he pulled so many double shifts recently.

The sheriff turned the lock slowly, a practiced motion that resulted in no sound, having done this since Stiles was a toddler, and eased the door open a fraction. He would be lying if his eyes didn’t widen a fraction in shock. His son was there, he was fortunate enough about that. But, there was someone else with him. Derek Hale. Their pale upper bodies were the only thing visible in the dim light of Stiles’ computer.


End file.
